No
by Blackwolf-20
Summary: Rick can't comprehend what's happening before his eyes. (Character death spoiler for season 8 mid-season finale.)


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead**

 **I've been wanting to write some fics in relation to this season and the war and after the character death reveal I really wanted to write something for that.** **  
** **Spoiler for the character death.**

It wasn't registering. He could see the teeth marks clearly but his brain wasn't making the connection.

No. His son could not be bitten. Such a thing didn't happen. If anyone was going to be bitten it would be him, but not his son. It didn't make any sense.

"No." His voice was barely audible.

He shook his head unawares. Carl didn't look scared, and it was something Rick couldn't comprehend. He remembered those days when the simple sound of thunder would get him frightened and he'd awaken to the frightened boy at the foot of his bed. Often Lori was the one to beckon him in the bed, and right away he'd snuggle up to her. But there had been times he had done the comforting by simply embracing him. He had looked so scared then in those simple moments; so young and innocent.

But he was no longer looking at that scared little boy. He was looking at a young man who still had so much life ahead of him. He needed to finish growing. He needed to get his first beard. He needed to have a family of his own.

"No," Rick said again.

"Dad."

He didn't want to hear it. This wasn't happening. Beside him Michonne was trembling slightly but not shedding a tear. The expression on her face was too much and he had to turn back to his son.

Moving closer he rested a shaky hand on his shoulder, desperately grasping for his flesh and blood, desperately grasping for a solution. There had to be something, something they hadn't tried.

"Son…son we'll, we'll figure this out." How he hated the crack in his tone. How he detested the wetness of his eyes.

"There's, nothing to figure out," he said tiredly. He didn't sound afraid at all, and once again Rick couldn't grasp that. "It's over."

"It's not," Rick forcefully whispered, dropping his head to make sure he was looking him in the eye. "It can't be…It can't…Carl…"

His son was strong. His son was a survivor. It was proven when he was accidentally shot by Otis. There he had nearly died, but he'd made it. He was shot again and lost an eye, yet his spirit refused to perish. Death had threatened to take him when Negan hovered the bat over his head, yet he had been spared.

Rick's lip trembled, and from that moment everything crumbled. He couldn't see past the tears.

"Dad, you gotta survive. You gotta…survive..."

"There's no…surviving…" How could there be? "Without you."

Michonne was holding onto his hand, leaning against it as her tears finally ran.

"There…is."

He was so pale.

Rick took his other hand and just stared down at the bite.

"Wasn't supposed to be like this. I wanted to…to make this world better for you…show you what this world could be."

The sweat was dripping profusely down his face.

"And you did…I saw, what Alexandria could…could be. I saw what people could…do. I know there's more…and you're gonna help everyone, see it."

"Carl," Rick begged. He was losing the strength to speak. Carl shifted as he tried to move closer, but he couldn't. Instead he gasped from the pain and fell back against the sewer wall. "Carl, don't try to…"

"There's…good people out there, dad. There's hope. There's a chance…that it doesn't have to be like this." He shut his eyes briefly as he strained to get the rest out. "That we can…live."

Carl didn't look scared, and Rick couldn't comprehend it. He looked determined, and ready. He looked like he had accepted his fate and was okay. But he also looked like he believed in him, and Rick couldn't see how. Somehow he had failed his son; he knew he had, otherwise this wouldn't be happening.

"Carl…I'm sorry."

His son shut his eyes and leaned back.

"Don't be…don't…take care of…Judith…"

His head fell and he was still.

"Carl," Rick begged.

He received no response.

Michonne's cries were vocal, catching the attention of the others who had been unaware of the scene behind them.

Rick couldn't cry. Not at first. It hadn't registered. He simply held onto his hand, waiting for him to wake back up. He'd done it before and he would do it again. All he had to do was wait.

"Rick."

He slowly turned to Michonne. She wasn't looking at him.

"You have to do it."

Do what? What did she mean? He knew but it didn't register. All he could do was shake his head. They just needed to wait. But her hand landed on his and she was looking at him now, pleading quietly. She'd do it if she had to, but she didn't want to do it. It should be him.

Someone handed him a knife, he wasn't sure who but he took it. He rested a hand behind his son's head and looked into his face. He was still alive in his eyes. He was still here, with him. And then he heard the start of the throaty growls. His hand that held the knife shook. He wasn't sure he could do this. But before his son could open his eye again, the knife was plunging into the back of his head.

Rick choked and dropped the knife.

At last he was able to cry.

When the surface cleared, Rick carried his son in his arms as he ascended and made the dreaded march toward the graves.

He was barely aware as he silently dug the hole. He wasn't sure who surrounded him. If there was one person he was aware of it was Michonne. And when the bed was ready, Rick gently lifted his son and laid him to rest. He fought hard. He deserved peace.

Rick bent down toward him and kissed his forehead, with the silent promise of seeing him tomorrow.

 **With Carl's death being theorized so heavily it was basically a spoiler, so I didn't feel shocked by it. I don't know what I think about it on the whole. I feel terrible for Rick though, but we'll just have to see how his absence changes the show.**


End file.
